


Subject to Change

by Ash_Cassidy97



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, The Immortals - Tamora Pierce, The Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4344983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Cassidy97/pseuds/Ash_Cassidy97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The War did not end with Kel. It ended with a mage, one who feared the King of Tortall, and brought ruin to all who opposed her will. It started with a glass of water, a vow, and treason.</p><p>In other words, I got curious what happens under Jon’s watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of swearing and rage.

I stared at Jonathan, the bastard.

 

“I won’t serve you,” I shouted through the hall. The Royal Court watched me. “You are not my King, and I am not a mage,” I roared.

 

“You dare attack me in public?” Johnny yelled back. I smirked at him, and gave a mocking bow. I wasn’t going to be another king’s weapon. I could feel Raoul resisting the urge to facepalm at my shoulder. I had told him that this would go badly. I told him the same thing two months ago, in a lower city tavern.

 

 

* * *

***Two Months Ago***

 

“I’ll have the lemonade,” a man ordered. I looked at him from across the bar. He was sitting on a stool, looking all peasant like. I cleaned a class with an already dirty cloth.

 

“I wouldn’t advise that. The lemonade is flavored with salt and dirt.”

 

“Ah. I’ll have water then.” I served and passed the clean glass to him across the bar. He smiled and paid for it. I went back to cleaning glasses with the dirty rag. “You know, it would be cleaner to use a clean cloth.”

 

“Maybe customers like the taste of twelve century dirt,” I said slyly. “They keep coming back after all.”

 

“Maybe it’s for the company,” the lord said back. I marked him as such, because of the way that he held himself, but he was in ‘disguise’. I was waiting for the day when somebody let the nobles know that all the lower class folk could spot them a mile away. “May I have your name?”

 

“Alex,” I said calmly. I wore a simple brown dress, and a pair of worn boots. There were five knives tucked around my body, and I wore a pair of plain leather gloves. I was lucky that it was winter.

 

“Raoul,” the lord said calmly. I nodded, and continued cleaning the glass. He wanted something from me. “Has there been any word in here about coles?”

 

Oh. Now that was dangerous.

 

I sat the glass back down.

 

“No, Sir Raoul of Goldenlake, and nobody in here knows anything of it,” I said loudly. Three men stood up, and started their way to the door. Raoul watched them. “Get out,” I told the knight sharply, flicking the clothe in the direction of the hurrying men.

 

Goldenlake left. I could hear a bunch of thuds and groans from the alley.

 

I shrugged it off, and continued keeping bar.

 

Goldenlake was back the next day, still dressed in ‘peasant’ clothing. “Water,” he said and tossed a few coins down.

 

“You are bad for business,” I replied.

 

“Sorry,” he said cheerfully. I sighed, taking it money, and serving the water. “Thank you for your information.” The tavern was empty.

 

“They were using kids to move the coles,” I said.

 

“Goats?” Raoul asked, confused.

 

“Children,” I explained. “Bad for business.” William, the tavern owner, didn’t give a shit about it. He was too drunk, and let me handle the day-to-day affairs.

 

“Want to make this a regular-?”

 

“No,” I said sharply. “I know better than to meddle in the affairs of the Court.”

 

“Court of the Rogue or the King?” His words were serious, but his eyes were alight.

 

“Both.” I sighed at him. “I want a peaceful life, Your Lordship.”

 

“Alright, thank you for the water.” He left. That would have been the end of it, if I hadn’t heard about a hit put out on Prince Roald’s daughter that very night. Oh hell nah.

 

I grabbed my cloak, and hurried off into the night. The Rogue had been left undecided from what I could tell. With the Scanran War, George Cooper sent all of his agents over the borders, leaving him stretched. Crime had picked up in the underground.

 

I walked through the streets, keeping to the shadows. I wore a mask over my face, and was dressed like a man. I slipped into a building, quiet like a snake. I wasn’t wearing my gloves.

 

I grabbed the first man, and held a knife to his throat. “Your leader, now, or I start cutting,” I growled at him.

 

He walked me into a room with five other men. They all drew their weapons. There was a child on the table, silently crying.

 

“I want that child,” I said calmly. “Or your man dies.”

 

One of the rushers, ironically, rushed me with a sword. I conked the first one on the head with the knife, and let him slid off me. I disarmed the second man, and knocked him upside the head. The other three looked at me. I sighed loudly, and drew another knife.

 

“The child, now!” I barked. The leader of the rushers nodded, and handed me the child. “You will never attempt this shit again, because next time, I will kill you, do we have an understanding?” They nodded. I left, taking the kid.

 

Oh yes, let’s steal from the Royal Family, who love, love their armed guards. That won’t end badly at all, motherfuckers.

 

I looked at the baby in my arms. She giggled back at me. I grit my teeth. I couldn’t just walk up, and hand off the child to the Royal Gate. They would suspect that it was me, and interrogate me. I find that it is best to avoid such encounters.

 

I headed toward the King’s Own instead: lower security, and easier to pass myself off as a peasant. I almost took her to a temple, but I couldn’t trust them to give her back.

 

I slipped into the Own’s stables, and watched for more guards. The baby remained silent. I snuck into the Knight Commander’s office. He had rooms at the palace, but I guess he needed a second place to look down his nose at the common folk. At least he was there, doing paperwork. The Own had yet to be alerted, because the Palace Guard would still be searching the place.

 

I shut the door, letting it snap close. He looked up. I took care not to touch the baby's skin.

 

“A gang thought it would be smart to piss off the king,” I said, and handed him the child. “I trust that you will see this put back in the right place?”

 

“Why would you? Who are you?”

 

“We have a mutual friend in Alex. Contact her if you have any trouble.”

 

“She didn’t seem very friendly.” I laughed slightly.

 

“She hates nobles and men. She may never trust you, but she will help and give you information about the crime activities.”

 

I turned and left, shutting the door gently behind me. Raoul couldn’t very well chase after me with a child in his arm. I’d heard that he was loyal to the King. I’d heard that Johnny inspired that.

tbc

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all title suggestions will be taken under advisement!:)
> 
> The amount of research I did, and then promptly disregarded. There’s a reason for everything that Alex does or say.
> 
> The Shang are trained in Maren. Ignore that for this story, but I figured I would throw it out there for the people who chill on tamora wiki (and yes, there is one). I mean, I’m not going to directly contradict it. I might even not contradict it at all, but-this is your warning.


	2. Chapter 2

Goldenlake came back the next day. “We have a mutual friend, apparently. Man in a mask?”

 

“He’s my tailor, he has a mean cross-stitch.” I rolled my eyes at the man. “What do you want, Your Lordship?”

 

“Answers. Who's your friend?”

 

“My tailor.” I poured him his normal glass of water, and he paid. I looked at him for a second. “I don’t know who the Mask is. He came into the bar one night, and that was that.”

 

“Huh,” Goldenlake said. “So, any crime that I should know about?”

 

“I don’t think so, unless it’s illegal for me to teach people self-defense.”

 

“It’s not,” Goldenlake said calmly. “Why doesn’t your friend contact one of Tortall’s spies?”

 

“He doesn’t like nobility or cloak and dagger things.”

 

“That’s-”

 

“Ironic, I know. Last call,” I yelled at the crowded bar. Word had gotten out that this was the place to be on a friday night, apparently. People rushed the bar, hollering their drinks over the clamour.

 

I handed out the drinks. Goldenlake watched me during the next hour. I finished cleaning up, showing the customers out the door. Goldenlake stayed behind, following me around. I went behind the stable.

 

“Are you going to continue being nosy, Your Lordship?” I asked cheerfully, glaring at him.

 

“Yes,” he said, equally cheerful. He had knives under his sleeve, and a smile on his face. It was a better disguise than his clothes. Knights rarely travel without their swords. I wore my brown dress, boots, and a wary look in my eye.

 

I met the mob out back. They were a mixed bunch of all ages, genders, and social classes. One of them, Jane, had seen me take out a few rushers who’d tried to steal coins from behind the tavern’s bar. They had ended up getting their asses handed to them. She asked for lessons, and it sort of escalated from there.

 

I led them through a series of drills, laying out ground footwork and how to throw off holds. Then, we had open sparring, where people partnered up. Goldenlake followed right along. I had the great joy of tossing him on his ass, when I was explaining to a newbie how to hit the ground and get up. He also partnered with me. I held back slightly, watching his hands and feet carefully. He tossed me on the ground, and I yanked his feet under him. His knighthood meant nothing here.

 

The mob eventually scattered. I got up, and dusted off my knees. Goldenlake continued to watch me.

 

“That’s Shang fighting,” he said softly to me. I grinned at it.

 

“Is it? Huh, I never noticed,” I said cheerfully.

 

“Did you study with them?” he asked.

 

“Your Lordship, if I was Shang, do you really think that I would be tending bar?” I asked. I would, for the record.

 

The Shang had me for a few years, but I got kicked out because I didn’t meet their ‘requirements’. I left, and ended up behind the Scanran border, which is not the best place to be. I had been eleven when they kicked me out. I am fourteen. You do the math.

 

“I don’t know,” Goldenlake said. He watched me. I grinned at him.

 

“Your Lordship is wise in his ways, but do you really think that I would stay in this hellhole if I had a better option?”

 

“Why not apply at the palace or the Queen’s Riders?”

 

“Nobility bugs me, and I might apply for the Riders.” I probably couldn’t. It would be my luck to set somebody important on fire or something. It is best to work in a tavern that has a well in front.

 

Again, it would have been fine if the local breadshop hadn’t raised their price on bread. I swore when I saw the mob. They had fucking pitchforks. Sweet Goddess, who uses pitchforks when a knife works just fine?

 

I waded through the crowd, breaking fingers of folk who didn’t swift quickly. The Army came to break it up, but one of them got rough with a townsman, and the mob rushed at the soldier’s line.

 

I swore loud and long, and marched up to where the lines met.

 

I shoved one of the townsfolk back, and wrapped a guard on the when he reached around me.

 

“CEASE,” I hollered over the din. A few people stopped, and several followed once they saw that the line was not attacking, yet. “VOICE YOUR COMPLAINTS!”

 

“The bread prices and tax have risen, for the second time this week,” a man hollered back.

 

“I see,” I said calmly. The fight had ceased for the moment (I broke a few fingers of those who hadn’t until they did). Villagers nodded. “Have you sent a petition to the king?”

 

“No,” the crowd mumbled.

 

“Well, I hear that he had beautiful penmanship,” I said cheerfully. “Have you sent a representative to the palace to acquire as to why the price has risen?” They shook their heads. “I suggest that you send a representative to the palace then,” I said simply.

 

“And if he doesn’t respond?” a villager asked snappishly. I looked at her.

 

“Then you have cause for pitchforks,” I replied, equally sharp. “But it does nothing to damage your neighbor’s property, endanger their families and homes for a King’s rule.”

 

People nodded. They knew as well as I that there would be no repayment for broken property here.

 

I oversaw as the commoners chose their representatives. One of the guards looked at me.

 

“I can’t let them-” he started.

 

I cut him off with, “Oh no, I see how a riot is much easier to control than escorting these nice people to the palace.” One of representatives looked at me.

 

“You’re not coming with us?” she whispered faintly. “I just-I’m not sure about talking to the King.”

 

“You’ll do fine, Marge,” one of the others reassured.

 

“I’ll come with,” I said slowly. I didn’t trust Johnny as far as I could throw him (which is a long way, thank you very much).

 

And that was how I ended up escorting a group of nervous peasants through the Palace Gates.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

I met Goldenlake’s eyes from across the room. He blinked at me, and tightened his hold on his sword. I met his eyes cooly. Fuck. I wore my mask proudly. I had breeches and a white shirt on that day. The mask had been in my bag, and I'd thrown it discreetly on as soon as I'd seen the mob.

 

“Yes?” King Jonathan asked. I looked at him. He was pretty, I could give him that. I resisted the instinct to _hide_ , to get _out_. I buried that along with my magic, deep inside, and prayed that he wouldn’t see it. I’d suffered a King before, and the experience didn’t need scientific retesting.

 

“They want to file a protest against the taxes, as is their legal right,” I said calmly.

 

I watched as the group listed their complaints in a some what orderly style. I stayed the hell out of it. I leaned against the pillar, and kept my whole body from shaking with fear. I really really do not like royalty. Goldenlake kept his eyes on me.

 

The King listened carefully, and talked some. He explained that there had been a slight wheat shortage because of a negligent farmer who had let some of the crop burn, and that the prices should slide back to normal. He wasn’t lying. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to let a bunch of angry villagers walk into a palace if I didn’t know Johnny had a good explanation.

 

Finally, the villagers left. I started to follow, but Johnny said, “I would like a word with you, if you don’t mind?”

 

I froze, and turned back around. I said nothing, not wanting to hang myself with my own rope.

 

“You rescued my grandchild,” Johnny began. I nodded slowly. “I want to know why.”

 

“It does nobody good if your soldiers go rooting through commoners’ homes,” I said cooly, still lower than my normal vocal range.

 

“You don’t like me, do you?” Johnny asked keenly.

 

“No, but I don’t want you dead. Good talk,” I said, and turned to leave. Jon didn’t say anything, and I left. I knew I got away with breaking the law just once, because I saved his blood and stopped a riot. He wouldn’t hesitate to throw me in the dungeon if he knew the truth.

 

One of the rushers burned down the tavern that night (drunk bastard started bitching about how everything should just be destroyed). William threw me out the next day.

 

I wandered the streets with my pack, wondering where to go. The irony and wordplay is not lost on me, I assure you.

 

I slept in the street for a few days, avoiding guards (the king doesn’t like people being homeless and I didn’t need his ‘help). Johnny sends people to poorhouses, or prison (depending on why they were in the street). I would prefer to avoid both so I moved often. I didn’t go to my mob, because it would just bring rushers down on them.

 

I slept on rooftops, because people rarely look up, and the Rogue was retired. I would go to George Cooper, but he has some semblance of the Gift, and I like to avoid people who know when I’m lying. Goldenlake was a moral bastard; he would march me right up to ol’ Jon, the moment he knew who I was so I couldn’t knock on his door.

 

I slept on his stable roof. There weren’t any protection spells (except against fire). Nobody would search for a peasant on a royal stable roof, because that would be fucking stupid. Technically, it was the Own’s roof. I figured that they would go back to the front in two weeks time. I could keep my head down for that long.

 

I walked the city by day, learning how to blend in. Raoul caught me in the fishmarket, of all places.

 

He wrapped a gentle hand around my wrist as it crept toward an apple (that I would pay for, just not the other four in my pocket).

 

“Alex,” he said cheerfully. He tossed a coin toward the shop owner, and carted me off toward a back alley. I snatched my wrist back. He was fucking lucky that I wore gloves. I followed him into the alley (they were three Royal guards down the street).

 

“Your tavern burnt down. How?”

 

“Rushers set fire to it, because I’m friends with the man who's been running them.”

 

“Do you have a place to stay?” I stared at him.

 

“Why the fuck do you care?”

 

“You serve a mean water.” I didn’t laugh. “Knights are supposed to care about people. I care about people.” He said it with this great conviction and an honest look in his eye.

 

“I don’t- I’ve been staying on your stable roof,” I said at last.

 

“I can find you work in that stable,” he said calmly. He didn’t look very surprised. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Daine let me know that somebody had been snooping.”

 

“I hate magic,” I muttered darkly.  Most of the people in the tavern didn’t have enough magic to light a candle. That was the only reason why I could work there. I looked at him. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t do well around magic.”

 

That was an understatement. The last mage who had bumped my bare skin had burst into flame. There’s a reason for the gloves.

 

“It’s winter, and you will freeze after this warm snap is over.” He looked at me for a second. “Why are you afraid of magic?”

 

“Don’t,” I said firmly. “Just, don’t.” I sighed at him. “Board and food in return for working in the stables, and I avoid people.”

 

“Done, and you let a healer see to that cut on your head.” I glared at him. “Non-magical. I will not have you passing out on the job from a head wound.”

 

“Fine,” I growled. I didn’t much care for my life, but freezing is a shit way to go.

 

He grinned cheerfully at me. I glared at him. If it wasn’t illegal, I would kick him.

 

“Come on then, no use putting it off.” I stared at him.

 

“I’m sorry, Your Lordship, but you have no idea how much I want to kick you right now,” I said clearly.

 

He touched my shoulder gently (no skin), and pushed me in the direction of the King’s Own. I led the way, slipping through the crowd, half trying to throw Goldenlake off. Goldenlake kept up.

 

Goldenlake nudged me into the onsite healer’s office beside the stables. Apparently, the Own got injured enough training that they needed a healer right there.

 

tbc

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey, Matty, I have a patient for you,” Goldenlake said, pushing me further into the room. Goldenlake twisted his hand slightly. Matty nodded.

 

“Alright, just the cut on your eye?” Matty asked me. I nodded. He got up from his stool, and touched the cut gently. I nearly flinched back, but Goldenlake had kept his word: he didn’t have magic. “I’m going to clean it out, and stitch it, alright?”

 

I might have been in the tavern when it burned to the ground. Nobody else was hurt in the fire, luckily. A beam had hit me in my head.

 

Matty got me to sit on a wooden table, and he stood. My hands clenched at the table tightly. Goldenlake guarded the door incase I tried to escape with it. “Do you want something for the pain?”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Just relax then.” He undid my stitches, washed the cut, and stitched me up. “That should heal better now.”

 

“Thank you.” I moved to stand, but he put a gentle hand on my knee.

 

“Can I take a look at your hands?” I tensed and watched Goldenlake warily. Matty grinned at me. “They hurt right? I can give you a cream to help.” Matty evaluated my face for a second. “Raoul, you mind?”

 

Goldenlake left, shutting the door behind him.

 

“Patient confidentiality,” Matty reassured me.

 

“My hands are fine,” I told him. I took off one of my gloves. There were no scars, no lightning tattoos or any other sort of warning sign (there’d been a collar for that).

 

“Alright,” Matty said agreeably. He touched my hand, turning it over, and pushing on the bones. “How many times were they broken?”

 

“Lost count,” I said lowly, barely breathing. It gave me an excuse on why I wouldn’t want people to touch my skin.

 

He nodded. “Any other injuries?” I shook my head, slipping the glove back on. “Sure?” I nodded hastily.

 

I reached for my pack, and took out a few coins to pay the healer. He shook his head at me.

 

“You work for the Own, which means that medical treatment is taken care of by the king.” He grinned at me cheerfully. “Come back in a week so I can take the stitches out.” He shooed me from his office.

 

Goldenlake looked at me. “Good?” I nodded quickly. Goldenlake showed me my quarters. “Food is served in the mess, behind the stable. Privy is on the other side. You get to clean and muck out the stables daily. You are not responsible for the tack. Stefan, the stable head, will go over your duties more in depth tomorrow morning. The routine starts at dawn.”

 

“Alright,” I said.

 

“Three meals a day. My door is always open, Alex.” I nodded quickly. “You answer directly to Stefan. We’ll talk about what will happen in two weeks when I go back to the front.” He left, leaving me to the high loft.

 

All the stable hands slept in the loft. There was a curtain separating the men and me. I looked at my tiny space: one bed, one bedside table, a dresser, and a candle with its holder. It was bare, but more than I’d ever had before.

 

I dropped my pack on the ground, and quickly fell asleep in the corner, wrapped around my pack.

 

* * *

 

I woke an hour before dawn. I reported to Stefan, as per Goldenlake’s instructions. I showed up at his office before breakfast was served.

 

“You’re the new hand?” Stefan asked me.

 

“Yes, sir.” I didn’t bow, but it was close. He handed me a pile of clothes.

 

“This your new uniform.” It was brown breeches, and a blue overshirt, a whole pile of them. “Do you have any experience with horses?”

 

“Yes, sir.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “My da was a farrier.” And that, m’dear, wasn’t a lie. “A lot of people in our village used him as a cheaper veterinarian.”

 

“So you have work experience in stables?”

 

“I have work experience in stables, yes.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “I swear I can learn, I promise.”

 

He stared at me for a few seconds. “You’re shadowing me for a few days, and we’ll see out it works.”

 

“Thank you,” I said softly. I followed Stefan around like an overgrown puppy. I changed into the clothes, and ate breakfast. Stefan had the great joy of running me around, asking me to fetch random shit and scrub the stable floor (with a brush and a bucket of soapy water).

 

I fell asleep, praying to make the next day.

 

* * *

  ***Raoul’s Quarters that Night, General POV***

 

“Well?” the Knight Commander asked his audience, which consisted of Stefan, Matty, and Jon.

 

“Healer confidentiality,” Matty said hastily, sipping at the water, wishing that it was stronger. He sighed and said softly, “whoever hurt her, did it systematically. I am surprised that she stepped foot in my office, and she only did so because she Raoul to like her, and keep her on.”

 

“Are you sure that this is a wise idea, if she is the one to save Roald’s daughter?” Jon asked. Raoul glared at him, but John only shook his head. “She could be dangerous.”

 

“She reminds me of Kel’s horse, Peachblossom: beat, hurt by humans, only she, hides her anger,” Stefan said firmly. “She isn’t gonna hurt a body, unless they hav’ a go at her.” He grinned at Raoul bitterly. “I was harsh with her today on her scrubbing, and she just stood there. She’s not gonna lose control with nobles. I think she’ll go ice cold, the way that Kel does, and make their life a living hell for a few days.”

 

Jon nodded. Stefan may not technically be royalty, but he’d been advising the Kings of Tortall(the Rogue was a King after all) for a long time. Jon would have given him a kingdom, but he prefered to be ‘to work for a living’.

 

“She only puts up with me, because she knows that she can flip me on my ass, if she pleases,” Raoul said cheerfully. He worked with Kel for four years, and knew good when he saw it. There were Reasons why Peachblossom had remained in the Own.

 

“I might venture a trip down to the courts tomorrow, Raoul,” Jon said off-handily.

 

“She’ll know,” Raoul muttered at his king. “And if Alex leaves because of you, Jon . . .” he trailed off.

 

“I know, Raoul.” Jon grinned at his friend. “I’ll take my leave.”

 

Everybody left, heading for their beds. Raoul stared after them. “This will end badly.”

 

tbc

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all title suggestions will be taken under advisement!:)
> 
> The amount of research I did, and then promptly disregarded. There’s a reason for everything that Alex does or say.
> 
> The Shang are trained in Maren. Ignore that for this story, but I figured I would throw it out there for the people who chill on tamora wiki (and yes, there is one). I mean, I’m not going to directly contradict it. I might even not contradict it at all, but-this is your warning.
> 
> Yes, I’m using modern English so sue me.Tortall isn’t really an accurate portrayal of medieval times. It’s more of an Alternate Universe.
> 
> The thing where people use farriers as cheaper vets is completely true (different chapter). All four chapters were posted in one sitting, because of a new rule I made: I must write four chapters before posting anything about it, or talking about it with the lightwithin. It was supposed to be five, but I hate editing long fics in one spot.
> 
> This whole thing is going to be edited a lot! Please please please yell at me in the comments. I love the rage. I like compliments better, but I take what I can get. #commentwhore


	5. Chapter 5

Goldenlake pulled me aside in the stables. “Do you mind showing some of my men how you flipped me?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Your Lordship,” I said hastily, continuing to sweep out the stables. Stefan lounged on a chair, watching me work.

 

“Alex,” Stefan said. I looked at him. He raised an eyebrow at me.

 

“I have work to do, Your Lordship,” I protested weakly.

 

“I can spare her for an hour or so,” Stefan added helpfully. Goldenlake looked at me with a pleading expression.

 

“You can throw me around again.” I nodded finally.

 

I followed Goldenlake out to the practice courts, leaving the broom. “I don’t know what more I can teach, Your Lordship, I’m not a soldier.”

 

“Humor me,” Goldenlake said, shuffling me out. In Goldenlake’s defense, there was a crowd of Own waiting on the courts. There was also a dark headed man with a blue aura. I breathed through the anger, and very very carefully did not set the Knight Commander on fire in front of nobility.

 

Goldenlake squared off. I faced him, hands down and free. I wore my gloves. I locked down my magic tightly.

 

“This is a bad idea, Your Lordship,” I muttered softly as he threw the first punch. I ducked his fist, and dropped to the ground. I swept his legs out from under him. I rolled out of the way of his falling body. I had a knife at his throat under a few seconds.

 

I stood up carefully, and threw the knife so it landed, directly in front of Johnny, stabbing the dirt and gleaming. “I do not like being played, Your Majesty.”

 

“I told you,” Goldenlake. I hauled him to his feet. He didn’t look very surprised.

 

“So you did,” the king said calmly. He turned his gaze on me. “Who are you?”

 

“Alex,” I said equally calm. “I’m merely a stablehand, Sire.”

 

“Carry on then,” Johnny instructed. I made a mental note to let my magic flare up next time I was the Mask, possibly set something on fire. Johnny left.

 

“Right, show me the flip again?” Goldenlake asked. I flipped him carefully. One of the Own whistled in appreciation. “Sure you’re not Shang?” he whispered through gasping lungs. I hauled him to his feet. “You see how she did that?” he asked the crowd.

 

They nodded, and he had me take them through a bunch of different flips and rolls. I did let Goldenlake take me down a bunch of times, controlling how it did it happened without him noticing. I should really hire myself out to George Cooper as a spy. At least, I don’t think Goldenlake noticed.

 

“I should return you to Stefan,” Goldenlake said at last.

 

“Your Lordship,” I said. He gave me a hand up.

 

“Can you read and write?” he asked, leading the way back to the stables.

 

“Yes.” I blinked at him. He made an ‘ah’ sound. “Why?”

 

“Why did you throw a knife at the king?” he snarked back.

 

“You wanted to showcase the woman who is too stupid to run from a fight.”

 

“I think that’s called bravery,” Goldenlake said softly. His eyes were kind.

 

“I think you’ve been hit too many times by a lance, Your Lordship.”

 

“You’re really not Shang?” I shook my head.

 

“Don’t-don’t ask me to fight.” He looked at me for a second. “You’re going to tell him anything I say, aren’t you?” He nodded slowly. “Don’t use me again, Your Lordship.”

 

I left, heading back to the relative safety of the stables, Stefan, and my broom. Stefan looked up at me. I guess he hadn’t gone to see the spectacle.

  
  


“It went badly?” Stefan asked me. I didn’t say anything, but he nodded in understanding. “My Lord is an idiot. It’s understandable, what with all the battle plans in his head.” I grinned slightly. “There are twenty-four stalls that still need to be mucked out.”

 

I mucked out thirty before he let me get dinner.

 

Marge slipped into the hay loft after nightfall. She touched my shoulder, but I was already awake.

 

“I know you told us not to contact you, but there’s a hit on the king,” she whispered. I closed my eyes for a second, and silently asked the gods what I had done in another life to deserve this.

 

I got up, and pulled on my boots, slipping on the mask. I grabbed my pack. Of course, I had to save every damn noble who ever walked a foot in Tortall.

 

“When?” I hissed at Marge.

 

“The main road, two days hence.” Shit. I pulled out a piece of paper, a quill, and an ink bottle. I wrote out quickly, ‘King in danger, two days from now, main road at Corus’. I rolled it up.

 

I darted out of the stable, with Marge on my heels. “Can you get this to Pirates’ Swoop?” She shook her head. “Alright, deliver this to Raoul of Goldenlake, tell him it’s from the Mask. Say nothing about me. I’ll do the rest.”

 

Marge took off. I, in the meantime, took off toward the palace. Somebody had to warn the king.

 

I crept into the palace, and stalked through the shadows. I really had to see Cooper once this was all over. He’d have to give me a desk job at the least (or offer it because I wouldn’t except). Still, it would be nice to have the offer.

 

I slipped into the Royal rooms. I felt the need to sigh heavily. All my weapons were concealed my magic (it’s one good use). I’d also have to talk how to properly guard the king so that people like me couldn’t just smother him with his pillow.

 

“Wakie wakie,” I said softly. Jon bolted off the bed. Thayet hit the ground as well. Jon magicked the lights on. I raised my eyebrows at him.

 

“What the hell are you?”

 

“Saving your life,” I said calmly. “Two days from now, you’ll be attacked during the annual Midwinter parade as you sashay through the crowd.”

 

“Alex?” he asked stupidly. I rolled my eyes at him.

 

“Alex would let you die, and reap the benefits. She hates you. Me, on the other hand, refuse to deal with a greater prick then yourself,” I bitched at him.

 

“That’s nice of you,” Jon said hesitantly. I smirked at him.

 

“I would like to think so,” I said easily. “So, the whole murder thing, plans?”

 

Jon clutched at the sheet. Apparently, the high and mighty king slept naked. I resisted the urge to stare at the queen (also naked).

 

“I have to go,” Jon said.

 

“You have a backup hubby, right?” I asked the queen. “Insurance?”

 

“Special warranty,” she joked back. She grabbed the heavier blanket off the bed, and wrapped it around herself. I smirked at her. Jon glared at both of us.

 

“Who is trying to kill me?” Jon finally asked the all-important question.

  
tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon is stupid, but even he knows better than to push Alex (mostly because the plot calls for it, but also from the experience of dealing with Alanna and George). I almost feel bad for him. Take a moment and imagine those two when they're in a tiff.


	6. Chapter 6

“Scanra put a hit out on you after you took down the Killing Machines,” I said in answer to Jon’s question. “A couple of hillmen are going to take Scanra up on it if you’re not careful.”

 

Jon rolled to his feet, and threw on a pair of pants, and a shirt. I didn’t turn around (eye candy, and I like not being stabbed when my back’s turned). I didn’t even turn why Thayet got dressed (now that was eye candy).

 

“I’ll just be going then,” I said calmly, trying to backtrack out of there.

 

“Wait,” the king commanded, and I stopped (I owed the bastard aid if nothing else). “You’re not Alex?”

 

“No, dickhead,” I snapped. Thank Mithros, I was faux polite to royalty when not wearing the mask. Alex isn’t stupid enough to insult a king to their face. The Mask, on the other hand, is. “I, my dear, am something entirely different from Alex.”

 

Jon’s eyes flashed. I smiled benignly, and waited patiently. “I have to go,” he snapped at last.

 

“I know,” I said calmly. Thayet raised her eyebrows. “You have a reputation to maintain, Johnny.” I shrugged at him. I was used to dealing crazy people. “I can scrounge up a few people to watch the street, and I figure that you can get word to the Lioness and George Cooper, who should still have a few contacts.”

 

“You do this often?” Thayet asked me. I shrugged at her.

 

“‘It’s not paranoia if everybody is out to get you,’” I said in lieu of an answer. “So, I’ll be going then.” I turned to leave once again.

 

“I can offer you a job,” Jon interrupted. I nearly blasted him on the spot.

 

“Darling, you have nothing for me here,” I whispered, and left through the fucking front door. Take that, Alex. I wouldn’t have done anything of the like without my trusty mask.

 

I walked around the city for a solid hour, before I ducked into a tavern with a nice roof access, slipped off my mask, and walked out through the front door with a stolen dress and my breeches thrown away. It seemed like I was developing a theme, doesn’t it?

I walked back through the stables, swinging a bottle, and behaving like an expert drunk. I bumped into Raoul of Goldenlake. I swung my arms around his neck.

 

“Your Lordship, how’s the sun up?”

 

“Alex, you’re drunk,” he said and caught me kindly. I swung round, and tried dancing with him. I was slightly tipsy. I couldn’t leave a bar right before the sun arose, and still be sober. He could see the bottle, and smell my breath, but didn’t know that my hands were still steady.

 

“I’m sorry that I can’t be what you want, Your Lordship.” Goldenlake started shuffling me off to bed.

 

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he said, trying to kick me up the stairs. “If you remember any of this,” he muttered.

 

I tapped his face, smiling at him. “You’re a kinder man than my last master.” He froze, like I knew he would. Everybody wants the story of the latest victim here. I knew better: I was damn responsible for my own actions. “He beat me when I lost a fight.”

 

Goldenlake controlled his anger, but his eyes flashed and his shoulders stiffened. I hit two of triggers, I would later learn: abuse and alcohol.

 

“He make you fight much?” he asked, finally convincing my feet that they did want to go up those stairs.

 

“Said it would bring honor to his house if a mere woman could conquer men of others.” I pressed my face to his shirt. I knew he could feel my tears. My lie was less of a lie, and more of an understatement. “I shouldna be tell you this,” I said in the typical fashion that drunks have when they have insight, before they upend the next bottle. “I just-you fighting with me, an that’d knife, I couldna get me head on straight.”

 

I don’t like drinking anymore than Goldenlake does, and that should tell you enough right there.

 

“Get some sleep, Alex,” Goldenlake said softly. “I’ll make sure that Stefan sees that you’re up.”

 

He didn’t give me the day off, and I didn’t expect him to. Goldenlake wasn’t the type to be sympathetic toward drunks. He did call me into his office.

 

“I am sorry for making you fight,” he said. I nodded warily, dropping my eyes. “Show up drunk again, I’ll fire you.” I nodded. I wouldn’t expect anything less of a moral man. Goldenlake looked at me. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

“Not particularly,” I responded. He glared at me.

 

“Maybe I can help,” he said, slightly irritable.

 

“Your Lordship is a kind, and gracious man, but I don’t need to be saved,” I said without a snap in my voice.

 

I got down to work. I was lucky that the Own was mostly self-sufficient, and needed little help with their tack or weapons. I sat in a corner, and taught a few of the newer Own how to mend their shirts like they hadn’t been ripped in the first place. I took my gloves off, and ended up stabbing myself for my troubles. The men were polite to me.

 

Stefan didn’t say anything, just sat next to me, and pulled out his own mending (I think he was pissed at Goldenlake). He did ask why I mended everything in blue yarn, and I didn’t respond. I wasn’t old, but I remembered my ma with her basket, sitting next to the forge as my da worked, and mending my torn dresses. Stefan clapped me on my shoulder as he walked past.

 

That was how I spent the next two days: working. I didn’t let it slip that I knew why the palace had gained more traffic, and why the Thief King rode in that night. No sir, I kept my head down. Goldenlake left me well alone: he probably felt bad for forcing me to fight, and causing flashbacks. Stefan even backed off a bit. He got a tight look about him whenever Goldenlake was mentioned.

  
I fell asleep the night before the midwinter parade, knowing I had done all I could do. I couldn’t warn the commoners, because they might riot, and kill folk. I couldn’t tell Stefan. Goldenlake would’ve prepared the Own. I prayed that Jon would live to see the next night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can bitch about Arrow all you want, but they should’ve gone with something better, like the fucking original name.


	7. Chapter 7

I walked through the Midwinter festival. I had a cloak on, boots, dress, and several knives. I didn’t wear my gloves. If somebody was going to fuck with the king, I needed to be able to move. The Own had surrounded the king. Everybody was merry with their hands on their swords. Johnny was relaxed and calm. I had to give him props. Numair Salmalin rode next to him. I pulled my cloak tighter around myself. I could feel George Cooper on the roof, watching over the street. Goddamn absent spies.

 

I shoved my hands into my pockets, and prayed that I would be alright. I don’t put much stock in gods (fourteen years had taught me that much), but it can’t hurt none. The Shang aren’t known for liking magic or the supernatural.

 

I heard the arrow before I saw it.

 

I set it on fire before it hit Johnny in the chest. Numair’s eyes flicked over me, but tracked the man ten feet to my right. I wasn’t exactly his stare suspect. I didn’t have a mask on (I didn’t want to draw attention to myself). I twirled my fingers at him, and winked (own it until you make it).

 

I moved through the crowd. The Own were flipping their shit, yelling orders and trying to march against the crowd. I felt, more than saw, Cooper alert people to the assassin, and take him down.

 

I stayed in the mob, through the damn festival, until Jon was back behind palace gate.

 

After that, I hurried into the stable, and went and grabbed my pack. Goldenlake caught my arm as I tried to rush past him. He was sweaty and dusty from the parade. Jon couldn’t run back to the palace, because that would show fear.

 

“You lied,” he said. I shrugged him off, and put my gloves back on. “You are the Mask, aren’t you?”

 

“No,” I snapped at him. “I’m a normal person who saw something, and saw it set on fire, and I’ll just be on my way. Thank you for the board and job, and-”

 

“Hang on,” Goldenlake snapped. I nearly flinched. “You are leaving?”

 

“Yes, I am,” I snapped back. “Excuse me, Your Lordship,” I said snidely. I had been taking too many risks, and should’ve left a long time ago.

 

“Just calm down for a second,” Goldenlake said, gentling his voice. I hesitated. “Take it easy for a moment. What happened?”

 

I turned away, and then turned back. “Look, Your Lordship, I am going to leave. Tell His Majesty, that he can save his own neck from now on.”

 

“You’re freaked out by the magic that your friend reeled off?” He thought the Mask was magic, not I. Thank Mithros. I nodded. “Just, stay for a few more days, until you figure something out.” I shook my head. “Please?”

 

“Fine,” I muttered. I left for the hay loft.

 

It worked out well for a day. Stefan ran me ragged, muttering something ‘about how stupid does she think I am?’. He forced me up on the roof to clean out the chimney. I tripped over loose straw, and fell twenty feet.

 

I rolled in mid-air, twisting, trying desperately to hit the ground at a good angle.

 

Crunch.

 

I hit the ground, and rolled, smacking my leg against the earth. I heard the bones break, and splinter through my skin.

 

Stefan shouted and ran toward me. I rolled back, shaky. I looked at my left leg.

 

It was bad.

 

Stefan hit his knees next to me. He was yelling for help. I tried to get back up. I stood up; my feet felt weak. Stefan caught me.

 

“Easy, easy,” he said. I leaned against his shoulder.

 

“I’m fine,” I muttered. The only thing that kept the bones from moving more was my boot. Blood was pooling on the ground, underneath me.

 

“Alex?” Goldenlake asked, pelting across the yard, and doing a sliding stop in front of me.

 

“I’m good,” I said. I was still standing, leaning heavily against Stefan.

 

“Can you get Matty?” Goldenlake asked. Stefan lowered me to the ground. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t manage it. “Easy,” Goldenlake repeated, crouching down next to me. I thrashed away.

 

Soon, Matty was on his knees, over me. “How big was the fall?” he asked.

 

“Twenty feet,” Stefan half yelled. I winced at the sound of his voice. It was just a leg, geez.

 

“I’m fine, seriously, let me up,” I ordered. Goldenlake had me pinned with a hand on my shoulder, and a second at my hip.

 

“Take it easy, I’m gonna get your boot off, just relax,” Matty murmured, gripping my boot.

 

I tried to get away, but Goldenlake had a firm grip. Matty cut my boot off. I heard him hiss at the sight.

 

“She’s gonna need Baird, at the very least, if you want to keep the leg,” he said softly to Goldenlake.

 

“That’s going-to-be-difficult,” he stammered as he controlled my various escape attempts.

 

“No magic,” I growled at him. “We have a deal.”

 

“I would rather ask your forgiveness for magic, than deal with without you,” Matty said. He held my eyes. “You won’t just lose the leg, you’ll be dead.”

 

“I can’t,” I whispered. Goldenlake looked at me. “You have to understand, it’s not me I’m worried about. Get Numair Salmalin. He can explain it better than me.” Goldenlake had relaxed his grip enough.

 

I rolled away, pulling a knife out of my other boot, and held it on the others. I backed up against the wall.

 

“You are joking,” Goldenlake said.

 

“Numair or I don’t let any healer look at my leg,” I said strongly.

 

“She’s joking, right?” Stefan muttered. I shook my head sweetly at him.

 

“Go,” Goldenlake said. “Get Numair and Baird.” Stefan left, running toward the palace.

“You want to explain?” Goldenlake asked.

 

“Let me enjoy my freedom,” I responded. I wasn’t being glib.

 

Numair came back with Stefan and Baird.

 

“Oh,” Numair whispered when he saw me.

 

tbc

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want the Shang to meet Dean Winchester now.


	8. Chapter 8

My hands shook just looking at Numair. He was a burning pillar of black with white specks. I dropped the glamour. He shuddered, and took a step back. I shivered. I could feel his magic reaching out, only to flinch back. He could literally see how my magic was shattered, frozen inside of me.

 

“Who did it?” Numair asked. Baird hissed under his breath. He looked shocked as well.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” I voiced. “I need you to understand why using magic on me is a very very bad idea.”

 

“Your leg still needs to be healed,” Baird said, there was an undercurrent to his voice.

 

“Only if you want me to set people on fire,” I half yelled. I held Numair’s eyes. “You know that the likelihood of me not doing that is very very slim. Even if you knock me out, I will still set you on fire.”

 

“I can absorb your magic for a short time,” Numair said. I laughed at him.

 

“You’ll die, Mage,” I said bitterly. “You may have ironclad control, but my magic will burn you like ice and wind.”

 

“You mind?” he asked, holding out his hand. I pulled off a glove, keeping a steady grip on my knife.

 

“This is not a smart idea,” I said warningly. Numair only nodded, and extended his hand further out to me. I clasped it firmly. He shivered. My eyes flashed a deeper blue. Numair wrenched his hand free. I let him go hastily. He was shaking.

 

Goldenlake started forward, but stopped.

 

“Easy, love,” I said. “I give mages a shock.” Baird didn’t look much better than Numair. “You good?” I asked them both.

 

“You’re right,” Numair said. “I can’t absorb your magic.” He looked at the others. “I also can’t heal you, unless I do it by brute force, which will be painful and hurt all those involved.”

 

“I know,” I said. “I don’t expect you to. Waste of magic really,” I muttered.

 

“I am sorry,” Numair said. He met my eyes squarely. “I’d rather not leave you to die.”

 

Goldenlake nodded. He reached forward, and knocked the knife out of my hand. I dropped it; I could barely breath through the pain and shock of mixing magic. Baird rolled out a kit, as Goldenlake eased me into laying down.

 

“I can’t,” I told him. “I can’t.”

 

“Please,” Goldenlake said. “Please.” I couldn’t breath. I nodded once, hating him every step of the way, but understanding why he was ordering me.

 

“I’m going to splint your leg,” Matty murmured.

 

“I’ll go get a litter,” Stefan said. He felt guilty, I could tell. Numair put a hand on my other shoulder, not touching the skin. Stefan left.

 

“Alright, on three,” Matty said. “Three, two, one.” He started shifting my bones around. I swore, but didn’t thrash. I knew better than to mess when the actual healing began. I breathed smoothly. Finally, after ten minutes, Matty finished.

 

Stefan was back with the splint, and Matty and he got me up on it. It was a piece of cloth hung between two wooden poles. Stefan grasped one end, and the Duke grabbed the other.

 

“We’re taking you to the Healer’s Wing,” Baird informed me. I nodded. My pain tolerance is epic. Numair kept a hand on my shoulder, so did Goldenlake. They were on opposite sides. Matty was near my left foot. I tried to get up, but Goldenlake pressed me back down.

 

“Easy,” Goldenlake murmured. I tried to relax. “Healers?” he asked me.

 

“The man who broke my hands, had them healed.” I hesitated, but added, “repeatedly.”

 

“That would explain-” Numair started.

 

“Yeah.” I cut him off. They carried me through the palace, and into a healer room. Both of the healers in the group washed their hands. Goldenlake and Numair followed suit. Stefan went outside. They set me down on a surgical table. It was metal, flat, and had a nice set of leather straps on the sides.

“Matty is going to set your leg up. I am going to heal it.” Numair rolled up his sleeves. “Can you keep still and not set anything on fire?”

 

“Probably,” I said. I clenched my hands together. Goldenlake kept me still as Matty undid the splint, and set my leg up to be healed. They both stepped back. The Duke stayed back as well.

 

“I am going to tie you down,” Baird said calmly. He did the straps over my arms, chest and my right leg. I almost protested, but Goldenlake’s hand was a heavy weight on my shoulder. “Raoul, you may want to take your hand off.” He shook his head, and kept a hand on my shoulder.

 

“I may set you on fire,” I muttered at him. He shrugged. On his head, be it.

 

“Try to relax,” Numair said, moving down toward my leg. He bumped a stool over, and sat on it, directly. I tried, really really hard.

 

“I’m leaving after this, and you really should take off your hand,” I told the Knight Commander. He did, but shook his head.

 

“I am not going to damn you,” Goldenlake said firmly, in that steady tone of his. I rolled my eyes at him. The Shang and Scanra would say differently, but he didn’t need to know that.

 

“I am going to start,” Numair almost whined at me. I smirked at him. I couldn’t move; the bonds would hold. I nodded.

 

Numair placed a bare hand on my leg. It hurt, being this close to clean magic. It felt like whiskey on a wound. I didn’t flinch, and I didn’t set the mage on fire. Numair was gentle in the beginning. I managed to hold off fighting him on it, until he started actively knitting things back together. He wrapped my magic tightly down, and stood as a protector between me and Baird.

 

I thrashed badly, trying to get away from the burning sensation that Numair had caused. Baird quickly knitted my leg back together, and backed away. Numair let me go. Goldenlake started forward, but Numair stopped him.

  
“You good?” Goldenlake asked me. The healers hadn’t been able to use any pain relief. I promptly passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame some of Alex’s magic on this Stiles fic ‘These Are the Days that Bind Us’. If you like awesome magic fics, that is one.


	9. Chapter 9

 

I woke, but couldn’t move. Numair hovered over my face. “Better?” he asked.

 

I jerked at the leather cuff around my wrist. “Didn’t set you on fire, did I? And that was a damn mistake, mage, now let me up,” I hollered at him.

 

“Can’t,” Numair said simply. “His Grace doesn’t want you to move your leg.” My leg was strapped to a board, and bolted onto the bed.

 

Sparks flew around us.

 

“Let me up, NOW,” I snapped at him. He shook his head.

 

“Raoul went to see the king,” he informed me. “Even if I let you run, His Majesty would ask me to track you down.”

 

“You wouldn’t succeed,” I said. It wasn’t a threat, but a statement of fact.

 

Numair sighed. “Just, take a rest for a moment,” he said softly. “I am not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

 

I looked at him for a second. “Ah, shit,” I swore loudly. According the Mage Code (or whatever you want to call it), he who finds a budding mage, must train that mage until a more appropriate Master Mage can be found. Fuck my life.

 

“No, see my dear mage, I’ve already been trained. I am perfectly fine, and relinquish you from your responsibility.”

 

“I can teach you control,” Numair said. I wanted to say ‘yes’, but I knew I couldn’t.

 

“Not interested,” I replied snappily. “Do you know what it’s even like being this close to you? It’s like being set on fire, and told not to burn, so I am fine with my somewhat limited ability to not murder people, and keep Ol’ Johnny from not dying.”

 

I had vowed never to do magic again.

 

His Majesty, King Johnathan, entered the room at my words. “I would like to thank you for saving my life.”

 

“Don’t,” I said hastily. “I wouldn’t have done it, if I knew it would land me here.”

 

“Liar,” the man behind him said. George fucking Cooper.

 

“Do they know?” I asked him, making a minute thief gesturing with my right finger.

 

“They do,” George Cooper said.

 

“Good,” I said irritably. “WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?! HUH HUH! The goddamn underworld is bad, THIEF KING, SO FUCK YOU IN YOUR GODDAMN FACE!”

 

I continued in a much softer tone. “There are people trying to rob you blind, and everybody is attacking your King, and I hadn’t been around, YOU WOULD ALL BE MOTHERFUCKING dead, dead! Do you understand me?”

 

He nearly flinched at my words. I felt a bitter piece of joy.

 

“They were your people,” I whispered at them. “They shouldn’t have to rely on a masked vigilante. These were Your People,” I whisper-shouted at them. I pushed myself up on the bed. “And they don’t receive aid from the King of Thieves, or the actual King.” I glared at both of the men. “And that is why I would let both of you die, you worthless pieces of shit, nothing fit for dogs to eat or cats to piss on. I hope that when you die, the bones of the dead rise up, and haunt your peaceful realm, until the gods slap you back on Earth.”

 

I took a breath. “However, I can’t, because the people like you, even if you forget your vows, and the next asshole they get as a self-proclaimed ruler will, no doubt, be much worse,” I finished.

 

Numair looked like he was ready to wrap my mouth in cloth to shut me up. Goldenlake and Baird had entered during my speech, and Goldenlake did not look impressed. Johnny looked pissed, but Cooper was relaxed.

 

“You done?” he asked. I nodded. “You would do better than insult your host.” I rattled the chain that pinned one of my arms to the bed.

 

“Not here by choice,” I said. “I would have been fine.”

 

“What happened?” Goldenlake finally asked, once again.

 

“I do not want to talk about it, Goldenlake,” I snapped. I didn’t want the King to find out that I could give him an army, not with the sacrifice it would take.

 

“You will still be my student,” Numair said firmly. I rolled my eyes at him. “That or I call the Guild, and they will not be so lenient with you.”

 

“I pick door number three, running to a different kingdom for a bit,” I responded darkly. Baird shook his head at me. “Fine,” I muttered. “I’d rather be Judged, if you don’t mind.”

 

“Alright, I think this was enough strain for the day,” Baird said. “Everybody out,”he said firmly. People left. Only Goldenlake, and Numair stayed.

 

“I’ll contact the Guild,” Numair voiced solemnly. “They should be here in a few days.” He left, shutting the door behind him. My hands were shaking lightly. I didn’t have gloves on. I nodded.

 

I knew they would find me guilty. I would be sentenced to death. The secrete would die with me.

 

Baird poked at my leg, laying it out on a couple of pillows. Goldenlake sighed at me. “Get some rest,” he told me, and left.

 

“I healed your other fractures,” Baird said, sitting down next to me. “You should be able to walk on that leg, in a few days.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You know that His Majesty-”

 

“Don’t,” I said softly. “Thank you for the healing, but please, do not assume what I think or the reasons for my actions.”

 

“You could do worse than to trust the king, and his fellows,” Baird voiced kindly.

 

“I know,” I replied, equally soft. “I trust Goldenlake; I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Baird raised an eyebrow. “The Mages from the City of the Gods will Judge me soon, and none of this will matter.” I nearly sighed. I would be damn lucky if they didn’t call a full court, and magic me to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, least Mithros strike me down.

 

“It may be better to inform them before that occurs,” Baird muttered. I met his eyes squarely.

 

“Your Grace, it would not behoove you to cease your judgment of my actions, least the same fate befalls you.” My voice was low and dangerous.

 

“It would not behoove you to stop switching your accent and story around, but I will leave you to your rest,” His Grace said, and left me there.

 

I fell asleep easily. I think the nightmares like to trick me into believing that they have vanished. I know better: the king can’t judge me for actions he has not seen, but my own mind does not share those characteristics.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot that people with Gift were shielded from the Sight. Whoops. That will be handled and addressed in the next chapter.
> 
> By the way, I love comments. So, if y'all (all of two readers) feel like voicing them, the box needs some love, and I would like to hear your thoughts about what has happened, and what might happen next. Crack is appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

_There was a pile of corpses in front of me. I was kneeling on cold, rocky floor. My hands were broken and bleeding._

I woke, shaking. My hands were on fire. I hastily put them out. It had been three days since Baird and Numair had healed my leg. I could stand and hobble around a bit, but they had confined me to the healer’s wing at the palace. Johnny and Cooper had stayed away, but they had placed a guard outside. I could also hear Alanna the Lioness stalking the hallway from time to time. They really liked me. It would be rude to try to escape from them at the moment.

 

Numair entered the wing. “The Judges are here.”

 

“I’m not gonna have to enter the Chamber, right? ‘Cause I would take issue with that.” I knew damn well what that room did. I knew damn well what most Ordeals had in store and fuck that shit.

 

“No, they look upon you and pronounce Judgement. They see the truth.” Numair seemed to brighten up a bit. “Actually, it is a fascinating process, involving complex spell work that-”

 

“I got it,” I interrupted quickly. I did not need the dictionary explanation of how Jon would know to kill me.

 

“You could just be my apprentice,” Numair said. It was an insult to him that I would refuse an apprenticeship from such a great and powerful mage.

 

“I hate you, and you’re fucking weird, Your Mageship,” I said fervently.

 

“They could still assign me to you,” he protested.

 

I nearly laughed. “They will do no such thing. They are likely to lock me up, at the very least.”

 

“Why?” Numair asked. He held my eyes.

 

“I broke the Mage Code,” I admitted. I smirked at him.

 

“You would rather die than-?”

 

“Yes.” I would. “They Judge me alone, right?” He nodded. Thank Mithros.

 

“Technically, you are supposed to have a sponsor.” I grit my teeth. Cooper, if it had to happen, simply because he was used to keeping his fool mouth shut. Cooper knows what it would mean for Jon to find out my crimes. “They might make you,” Numair added.

 

I nodded, and stood up carefully. “Show me the way,” I responded. I wanted to get this over with. The wait is the worst part when you’re going to die. Normal folk have years, and Mithros, that must strain.

 

Numair moved to put a hand on my shoulder, but I ducked his arm. Baird kicked Numair firmly in the heel. I nearly laughed. Goldenlake met us at the door.

 

“His Majesty is with the Judges. You alright?” He asked me. I nodded. My gloves were off. Nobody had bothered to return my pack. The only reason I wasn’t in an actual cell, is because Baird might have committed murder if Jon tried.

 

They showed me into the room. It was medium size. The three Judges looked too similar to tell apart, even their had no differences. Triplets, possibly. Judges don’t use names. That would make them people. I stepped forward lightly. Jon and Cooper were already there.

 

The Judges shepherded me into another room. I didn’t pick a sponsor, thank Mithros. I stood in a circle, surrounded by the mages. Their eyes glowed a dark yellow, and they clasped hands. Nothing needed to be said; this was not the place for justification. I breathed slow. My skin felt like it was on fire, trapped by others’ magic. It took about thirty minutes.

 

Finally, they dropped the magic and took a step back. I relaxed, and gasped lightly. It felt like somebody had peared at your soul, and then walked away. I fell to the floor.

 

One of the brothers sank next to me. “It was not your fault, those children are not on your head.”

 

“My magic,” I said. “My fault.” Starting to catch on yet? I’ve given you enough hints. What happened the hell fire and damnation from the Judgement?

 

“We are assigning you to Master Numair, under the condition that you tell him,” one of other brothers said. I laughed darkly.

 

“No,” I said firmly. “I would murder him in a week.”

 

“Too bad,” another brother said without any sympathy.

 

“Magic burns me,” I tried. They weren’t impressed. “And what, out of curiosity, what is to stop me from running away?”

 

“Your assigned guardian will be Sir Raoul of Goldenlake.” And they had my final secret, before I could tell you the joke.

 

I smiled bitterly. “Are you going to tell them?”

 

“No, we Judge, we do not explain our decisions.” Assholes. Useful assholes for the moment.

 

“Swell, so I’m stuck in a land that will eventually exploit me, because of your say so?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Swell. When will you deem me appropriate to leave the apprenticeship?”

 

“When you can control your magic, and use it without shame.” Fifty years ought to sufficient.

 

“Can I get another judgement?” They shook their heads. “Swell. I can not wait to see how you’re going to explain this.”

 

As you can imagine, the explanation went well. Goldenlake and Numair were exceptionally thrilled to get exactly what they wanted. Bastards.

 

“We will be back in a year, and a day,” one of the brothers said. “Both the master and apprentice must agreed to abide by the Mage Code for that time, do you vow?”

 

“I vow to protect, provide for you, so that you can learn from me,” Numair said. Apprenticeships were serious business. It gave him power over me, but it was a two way street.

 

“I vow listen to your side, so that I can learn from you,” I said, muttering the second part of the vows.

 

“Go and do honor by your magic,” the brother finished. Numair grinned, and I grimaced.

 

“So you do have magic?” Goldenlake asked. I shrugged at him.

 

“Depends on your definition, but yes.”

  
“Alright then,” he said simply. This was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like George Cooper. I just kinda unleashed my inner Grammar Nazi in the form of Alex, and she hates him (respectfully). This is the last chapter you get that many hints.
> 
> I can’t wait until you know the joke. It seriously started out as a joke, and then I said ‘fuck it’. I blame Danny Williams, and that it so ironic.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: This is set about after Lady Knight, and yes, that will come into play in this chapter!!!! I am following cannon up to this point. You may address further issues or compliments in the comment section ;).

The next day, Numair watched me on the practice courts. Goldenlake had told me that since I was his ward, it would be stupid to not fight. I made a mental note to only practice Shang in the dark. Goldenlake had made it known that I was to use the Own’s practice courts, and they were to let me be. The Own mostly prefered watching me flip Goldenlake on his ass.

 

“Can you come here for a moment?” he asked. It was early in the morning, and the court was deserted. The Own were practicing in the woods, and the pages had left for winter training. I had been cooling off, preparing to go work in the stables.

 

I walked over toward Numair. He had a small stone. “Sir?” I asked formally. He hadn’t brought up our apprenticeship besides discussing rooming with him. I like denial, very comforting.

 

“Sit down, please.” I sat. He sat down in front of me. He placed the stone between us. “Move the stone.” I pretended to struggle. I didn’t have to like practicing magic.“Just relax and concentrate.” The stone flew up and whacked him in his forehead (I couldn’t resist the temptation).

 

“Sorry, sir, but you never said where you wanted me to move the stone.”

 

“What is your problem?” he asked snappishly. I glared at him.

 

“I swore never to practice magic again, unless it was to save somebody else.”

 

“Why? What made you break your magic, the Mage Code, and made you swear off magic?”

 

“You’re never going to stop asking are you?” He nodded. I wanted to. I really really wanted to.

 

“I will not judge you.”

 

“You get that this is some weird release program, right? And that I’m never going to be saved?” He nodded.

 

“Only because you don’t need saving.” I shook my head at him. “What if you were given immunity?”

 

“That’s not the problem.” I sighed. “I did a spell, a forbidden one, one that consequences.”

 

“Dark magic?”

 

“Yes,” I said shortly. I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Under great duress. The spell isn’t known, if I explain what happened, it will not end well.”

 

“Dark magic,” he said. I nodded. “And you think that the king would use it? Or order you to use the spell again?”

 

“Yes,” I said curtly. “It would win him the war.” This wasn’t the joke, by the way.

 

Numair stared at me. “At what cost?” I got up and left. He knew that magic like that, Dark, has a powerful cost.

 

I went back to work in the stable. Goldenlake was technically my guardian, but I was keeping my job. Goldenlake, wise as he is, was smart enough to let me be for the moment. I tried to not worry about Numair finding me later, after he had a conference with Johnny and Goldenlake.

 

“Are you alright?” Stefan on the other hand liked to meddle.

 

“Yeah,” I said. I shoveled more horse shit. Stefan glared at me, but left. I think everybody were scared of me accidentally blowing up something else.

 

I went to bed, in the stable loft. Goldenlake had near murdered me for it, but Stefan had backed me up on it. Goldenlake was sitting on my bed.

 

“Mithros,” I hissed through my teeth. “I will put a tracking spell on you, I swear.”

 

“I think he would resist.” He looked at me. “I go back to the front in two days.” I nodded. “Are you coming with me?”

 

“Yes,” I responded. “Your my guardian and my lord.”

 

“Numair told me what you told him.”

 

“I am not surprised.”

 

“You want to talk about it?”

 

“No.” I sat down next to him. “Your pants better be clean, Your Lordship.” He glared at me. I smirked.

 

“Are you ever going to stop calling me ‘Your Lordship’ or ‘Goldenlake’?”

 

“I like it. It shows a certain respect,” I paired back. His eyes twinkled.

 

“I could start calling you ‘my ward’. It shows a certain possession, doesn’t it?”

 

“Nice,” I responded. He tilted his head at me. I sighed at him. “I call you that, because you make it easy to forget who I’m talking to. That’s why I’m fine going to the front with you, because I trust you the most I have ever trusted somebody for a long time,” I said in a rush.

 

“Thank you,” he murmured.

 

“You’re welcome.” It was just the truth after all.

 

“Still not going to tell me?” I shook my head at him. I had sworn. I had sworn an oath that I would not tell unless, it would prevent the damage that it could do. “That bad?” I nodded.

 

It would be another five days before I would have to voice my secret.

 

I followed Goldenlake to the frontline. It took four days, slogging through the rain. I rode a small, gray roan mare that Goldenlake had foisted on me. She looked tiny in comparison to Goldenlake’s battle horse, but Stefan had promised that she could take care of herself (something about the Wild Mage having a hand in it). The mare, Shade, was sweet on me, and there were no problems.

 

My father was a blacksmith. He gave me steady hands, and a love of horses and metal.

I had missed riding. I had walked for a long time, since the Shang.

 

The Own watched me carefully, but I would find out later, that Lady Keladry had broken the ice on gender with them, before me. Numair came with us. I stayed near the back, and often overheard Queenscove’s complaints about the weather, and Mindelan plotting. I mentally awarded the female knight a few points.

 

Goldenlake had left me alone. I had slept in the stables, if we stopped at a tavern for the night. Most nights, we took our chances in the woods. I stayed far away from Numair, incase I accidentally set him on fire.

  
The first Killing Device set upon us at dawn on the fourth day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can still hear Brom telling me to move the stone.
> 
> Are you catching on yet? Seriously, I am getting good at being an asshole author.


	12. Chapter 12

I ran toward the Killing Device; my hands were rock steady. Goldenlake tried to catch my shoulder, failed, started yelling about ‘contact rear’, and pelted after me with a sword.

 

The Device stopped short of my feet. I stood there, ignoring the sounds of the camp readying for battle. I pulled a stolen knife(Goldenlake wasn’t stupid) from my boot, and dragged it across my hand. I put my hand on the Device’s arm.

 

It whined softly, and shuddered. I didn’t quiver. Goldenlake caught up to me, but held back, knowing that something was happening that he had no power over. The machine shook, but didn’t attack me.

 

“Mommy?” the machine asked. I nearly closed my eyes against the unfallen tears in my eyes. It sat down. I crouched next to it, keeping contact.

 

“Shhh,” I whispered. “It’s time to sleep. That’s it, little one.” It fell apart, breaking inward, and burying into the dirt.

 

I stood up, wiped my face, careful to not get blood in my eyes. I felt nauseous. I ripped a piece of my shirt, and hastily wrapped my hand up (blood loss is not a joke). I mastered my stomach; I didn’t have time to be sick of my actions. I met Goldenlake’s eyes, and nearly flinched before I recovered myself. He looked disgusted and disappointed. Numair was five yards out. The entire camp was behind him, and had witnessed what had occurred.

 

“I’m only explaining it once,” I said to Goldenlake. He made a squinty face at me. I sighed. I walked back to the main camp fire, and started making tea. “You don’t mind, do you?” He shook his head, still confused as shit. I didn’t care. I poured the tea, and wished for something a little stronger.

 

“So?” Lady Keladry asked me. The entire camp surrounded the fire, watching me sitting on a stool, and Goldenlake sitting on another chair next to me. The Wild Mage was traveling with us, and the horses had all returned. Everything had settled down into nervous anticipation.

 

“This is the Dark Magic?” Numair asked sarcastically. I glared at him.

 

“I knew how to destroy it, because I created it.” I really wanted something stronger. “Technically, it shouldn’t have needed my blood, but with my magic the way it is- well, it worked out alright.”

 

“You’ve made Killing Devices?” Goldenlake asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Against Tortall?”

 

“Yep. There was a reason why I didn’t want to stay in Tortall.”

 

“And yet, you were Judged positively.” Goldenlake was pissed, but Numair wasn’t.

 

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” I might be a tad bitter. I sighed. “Yes, because it took Maggur Rathhausak three months to break me.”

 

“The King of Scanra?” Queenscove asked.

 

“Yep.” The joke was in how he broke me. “Point is that I killed children, trapped their souls, and used it to kill some of your people. I’ll take my state regulated execution now, please.” Yes, I said all that out loud, in front of trained soldiers.

 

“How?” Numair asked, ever the scientist.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“How did you do it?” I shrugged at him. Shit. He grit his teeth and bore into my eyes, prepared for the long haul. I was his apprentice after all.

 

I stood up, and got in Numair’s face. “Pray you never ask me again, you fat rich bastard.” I was mentally shaking in my boots. “Mithros condemn you for even asking.” I took a final sip of my tea (never dump good tea). I set the cup down, and started walking away from the crowd.

 

“Where are you going?” Keladry asked.

 

“I figure I should get out of here, before Good Ol’ Johnny finds out, and comes looking for a miracle, and claps me in irons.” I stalked over to my wet, and muddy bedroll, wrapped it up, and strapped it to the back of my bag.

 

“Click.” I stared at my wrist which was bound to Goldenlake’s. The sound effect was not necessary. “I will not let you run away from this, when you’ve already been deemed innocent. Now, tell me the truth.”

 

I shook my head. “I can’t, my lordship.” He raised an eyebrow. “I already told you. Thank you for the living quarters, now unlock me, before the pissed off mage sets you on fire, Your Lordship.”

 

Goldenlake released me. I finished packing my bags, and left. I left. Goldenlake tossed me the reins to Shade as I passed by him. “You know you’re being stupid, correct?” he asked.

 

“Your king might be a good person, but the moment he finds out that I can do magic on that scale, he won’t release me.” I smiled at him. “Don’t try to protect or save me.”

 

“Leave before dawn, go back to your king.” I smirked before leaving.

 

Alright, time for a small confession: I am an idiot.

 

I didn’t leave. I tracked the party to their fort, and camped outside. If  need be, I could scurry across the border. I couldn’t give Numair the spells, and I couldn’t trust him to not kill anybody with his ignorance.

 

“You know, this would be easier if you just  trusted Sir Raoul,” Keladry murmured as she entered my hasty camp. I froze, before pulling out a knife. “How do you store all those knives without cutting yourself?”

 

“Plot devices,” I murmured under my breath. She raised an eyebrow. “Nothing. Are you going to report me?”

 

“No. I brought you some food.” She tossed me some bread. “Call me ‘Kel’.”

 

“Alright. Thank you. Why are you helping me again?”

 

“Because it’s the right thing.” I laughed slightly.

 

“Your Knight Master was Goldenlake, huh?”

 

“I run a camp where 80% of its inhabitants are ex-convicts, and refugees. I honestly don’t give a shit. Besides Goldenlake said you were good.”

 

“Huh,” was all I said.

 

“Yeah.” Kel poked at the fire with a stick. It was smokeless and set up under deep cover from the fortress that is Giantkiller. “I want to offer you work.”

  
tbc


	13. author's note

Sorry everybody. I started a rewrite of it to put in third person. I didn't like that I couldn't write other people's reactions. I'm posting the first chapter of it today. That's why it looked like I abandoned it for so long. I'm on the ninth chapter of it. The word count per chapter is longer. It is incomplete for the moment but a few people reviewed, worrying that I'd abandoned the thing. So I am posting it sooner. Apologies for the delay.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Inherited War](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299601) by [Ash_Cassidy97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Cassidy97/pseuds/Ash_Cassidy97)




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